


What's a few galleons between friends, anyway?

by MsJackofAllFandoms



Series: 30 Day Writing Challenge 2011 [14]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bachelor Auction, Funny, Gen, It's slash if you squint, M/M, Pre-Slash, charity auction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-13
Updated: 2011-04-13
Packaged: 2018-09-24 00:32:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9691664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsJackofAllFandoms/pseuds/MsJackofAllFandoms
Summary: Oliver Wood has been signed up to be a prize for a charity auction: The winner wins dinner and date with the Quidditch star! Will he be forced to go on a date with an old spinster witch spending her retirement on his cute face, or maybe Marcus Flint splashes some quality cash for the once in a life time opportunity?Or maybe his poor grimacing red-headed friend will step up and save him from such terrible fates? How much is Oliver worth, anyway?





	

_Auction: awk-shuhn_  
 /ˈɔkʃən/  
noun  
Also called public sale. a publicly held sale at which property or goods are sold to the highest  
bidder.  
  
“We’ll get you started off, ladies and gentleman, witches and wizards, with 5 knuts. Now remember, this all goes to charity…”  
  
“Twenty Knuts”  
  
“Err…Fine… Young Man in the corner there. Twenty Knuts, anyone want to advance?”  
  
“Thirty Knuts” yelled out an elderly witch, buried somewhere in the crowd at the back of the hall.  
  
“Forty Knuts!” Said the… fine young man from the corner.  
  
“Do we have an advance on Forty knuts?”  
  
The desperate man on stage threw a very desperate look into the crowd. A series of pleading looks and glares went back and forth between the desperate man and a certain member of the audience.  
  
“Five Sickles!”   
  
“Five Sickles from the red headed man in the front!” shouted the auctioneer, “Do we have an advance on Five sickles? Six Sickles anyone? Six Sickles?”  
  
“Ten Sickles!” Shouted the fine young man in the corner.  
  
The desperate look returned to the man on stage again.   
  
“Ten sickles. My, my, we do have a popular prize tonight. Eleven Sickles, anyone?”  
  
“Twelve Sickles and Five knuts!” shouted the someone buried witch as earlier.  
  
“One Galleon!” Shouted the same red head from the front, though the way he’d shouted it, one might presume he was asking if anyone had a Galleon, rather than placing a bid.  
  
The man on stage smiled for a split second, before the next bid sent him back to looking desperate.  
  
“Two Galleons.”   
  
“Two Galleons from the young man in the corner. Come on ladies, are none of you going to bid? Remember this is all for charity.”  
  
“Three Galleons!” Said the buried witch.  
  
“Four Galleons!” Shouted the young man in the corner.  
  
The redhead scratched his head, returning the look of desperation the man on stage was throwing him.  
  
He grimaced in disbelief at what he was about to do. “Ten Galleons!”   
  
There was a gasp and a collection of murmuring from the crowd behind him.   
  
“…Witches and Wizards of the crowd, we have ten Galleons. Can anyone advance on that? Eleven Galleons? Fine Young Man in the corner?”  
  
The supposedly fine young man in the corner scowled and shook his head.  
  
“Anyone? If not, we’re all for going. Going once…. Going twice… And three times,” the auctioneer knocked the stand with his gavel, “Sold to the redheaded gent in the front.”   
  
Percy felt his face heat up like it hadn’t in a long time. The Auctioneer turned to the relieved man on stage. “Oliver, if you’d like to stand down from the stage, we’ll move on to the next item and you can get to know your date for this evening. Thank you, you’ve done a marvellous thing tonight.”  
  
The man smiled, but spoke through gritted teeth. “Anything for charity.”  
  
Oliver stepped down from the stage and sat down next to the still-blushing Percy, who was glaring at him.   
  
Oliver grinned. “Hi, I’m Oliver Wood and I’ll be your date for this evening.”  
  
“You owe me ten Galleons.”  
  
“Wouldn’t a wonderful night with me not suffice?”  
  
“No it wouldn’t.”  
  
“Now now, Percy, it was all for a good cause.” Oliver chastised.  
  
He was met with a grunt, “Yes, I’m sure the Orphans of The Second War will be able to put use to those ten Galleons. However, we had a deal.”  
  
Oliver smiled, “Well, I was more on about saving me from Marcus Flint, but you’re right, that’s a good cause too.”  
  
Percy’s glare didn’t subside. “Do you know what my brothers will say when they hear of this? I’m going to have to pose for a photograph with you, now, and it will be all over the newspaper.”  
  
Oliver waved his hand and picked up the complimentary scone that had appeared on the plate in front of him. “I’ll explain the whole thing to them, they’ll listen to me. We’ll spend the night doing what we normally do, we’ll just have to eat some fancy food for a bit beforehand. Why not enjoy it?”  
  
Percy conceded a little bit, and sighed. “I suppose you have a point. But you still owe me ten Galleons.”

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in 2011 for my 30 day writing challenge.


End file.
